Correspondence
by Erised
Summary: He is sending the letters from no one. She's trying to discover who he is.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Other people do.

A Breath of Fresh Air

All he needed was a breath of fresh air. Pansy had been even more clingy. That should be expected after the way he had brushed her off the night before. It didn't make her presence any easier to deal with. Pansy's ego bruised easily and often, and the fewer emotional bruises she had, the fewer he would receive. He had a duty that needed to be fulfilled, and he might as well get used to the duties that came with the burden that was his name.

The lake was the perfect place to relax. For some reason water always calmed him, despite having his head shoved in a bucket when he was four because he had run through some very expensive flowers that his mother had just planted. His father hadn't really cared about the flowers, but the Malfoy heir must learn obedience and the proper way to behave. He sighed, relaxing against the tree. The giant squid raised a giant tentacle to the surface of the water and Draco tossed in the toast he had brought with him. The water collapsed above the tentacle as it drew the toast down and he watched it sink until he couldn't see it anymore through the water.

_Ha ha ha ha_. 

The giggle caught his attention. There must a nymph nearby. He kept immaculately still; nymphs did not like being caught. Even if you were as beautiful as Adonis (which he liked to think he was) they would run and hide, and like a snitch they were almost impossible to catch. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of gold. Fire nymphs and autumn nymphs could be gold. It seem like there was any fire nearby to call it out so it must be an autumn nymph. He turned his head ever-so slightly.

_Ha ha ha ha._

The figure was highlighted by the sunlight, twirling and turning, its hair red and glinting in the sunset. Her (it had to be a her) skin glowed like it was absorbing the light from the moon that had just peeked its way into the sky. He sat, mesmerized, as the twirling figure fell to the ground like she was going to make a snow angel. His eyes followed the moonlit hand as it plucked away the grass and threw it up in the air. Green confetti on the blanket of fire. The spray of green came again, and again. Suddenly, the nymph sat up; he knew he had been caught.

Slowly, she turned her head in his direction. There was no use in hiding now; he stared at her straight on. She let her eyes rest on him for the briefest moment and he was stunned when she suddenly bolted. His nymph had been human, a female by the name of Ginny Weasley. 

Draco cursed his luck and his hormones.

He was randy enough to take Pansy up on her offer.

No, he could never be that randy. 

He sighed, getting up and brushing off his robes. He kept his mind amazingly clear as he returned to the castle for dinner. The Great Hall was nearly full, but the Slytherins made room for him, giving him the respect his name had earned. He sat facing the Gryfinndor table, flanked with Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy was stuck playing footsie, with his very inert foot. It didn't matter though, he was having the time of his life with the little Weaslette. Every so often she would glance up from her plate (where she had been cutting every single bit of food into what appeared to be the smallest piece she could accomplish) catch him staring at her, open her eyes wide while a simultaneous blush rushed to her face and then stare back at her plate for a full five minutes before resuming her cutting. All in all, it kept him amused; it was like he had discovered some dirty secret that she was afraid that he would reveal and he was hanging his knowledge in front of her. The only problem was he didn't have a dirty little secret to taunt her with.

A few days passed and he forgot about the little Weasley girl. Well…almost. Sometimes he would wake up from a dream of her twirling and laughing only to fall back asleep, forget the dream, then remember it during class (History of Magic seemed the best time for him to remember such dreams), but he rarely saw her and he wasn't about to go looking for her. His complete avoidance of her probably would have succeeded, had Professor Snape not been in an especially foul mood and paired him with Potter during Potions. Usually he was perfectly willing to assist in these little tortures, but not now. Not when he had been following her gaze for the past few days during mealtimes only to find it leading time and time again to the same person and having to withdraw his eyes like he had been slapped. He really shouldn't be jealous that Potter was admired so blatantly. He himself was admired as much by Pansy. If only Pansy were better looking, maybe one day he could convince her to dye her hair red and…no. That would never do. Malfoys were blond, and she would be a Malfoy. Ah tradition.

So that day, faced with heroic green eyes and an ever-so tragic scar, Draco was in no mood to taunt. It took every effort to focus on the potion and by the end of the class he felt as if he had chewed off the inside of his mouth and would have to grow it back.

Outside the classroom, the fourth years had already lined up against the wall and with them was young Miss Weasley talking animatedly. She threw back her head as the pale boy next to her, Creevey, told a joke. He flashed his camera and the emotion was captured forever in the little black machine. Draco wondered vaguely how many pictures of the little Weaslette had been captured by the camera. She righted her eyes, her eyes still gleaming with laughter until her tragic hero waltzed through the door and her eyes glazed over with reverence. He much preferred her head thrown back with the camera flash washing out her skin. Potter passed without seeming to notice her and her face fell a little. Draco smirked; the Weasley deserved to be miserable.

It seemed the day was crying for her as he made his way out to the Greenhouses. Buckets and buckets of rain poured from the sky and he ran, trying to keep as dry as possible. Crabbe and Goyle were heaving air in and out by the time they had caught up with him in the Greenhouse.

"Everyone grab a tree and go outside!" Professor Spout yelled over the incoming students. Grumbling, they did as they were told grabbing the saplings with bagged roots and dragging them out behind them. "Today we'll be transplanting snake-root trees. They need a lot of water and have to be transplanted in mud. Therefore, today is perfect. Everyone grab a shovel, dig a hole 2 feet deep and 2 feet in diameter, unbag the roots of your tree and place them in, and filling in the hole. The roots will try and snare around your limbs, so be careful. You may now begin."

By the time he had finished planting, not only were his robes soaked to his skin, but he was covered from the waist down in mud. Professor Sprout had been understating the trees' behavior, in fact Neville became so ensnared by his tree that she had to knock the shovle against the trunk several times before he was free. Draco made his way back to the castle dragging his feet, feeling the weight of all the water in his robes. He dragged his eyes from the ground to the castle entrance, willing the distance to be shorter, when he noticed a flash of red to his right. Rejuvenated, he followed across the grounds and into the Forbidden Forest.

It was dryer in the forest, the dense trees allowed hardly a drop of water to enter in some parts, and his robes made unnessary noise as he followed the glinted red hair to a clearing. He kept in the evergreen shadows of the forest as she laughed and spun in the rain, letting the water trickle down her face and into her hair.

He knew he shouldn't be there but he cast the thought away as she cast off her cloak. The rain had wet her clothing so they hugged her skin. And still she kept twirling. She bent down and scooped up some mud, running it in her hair and through her fingers. He was again mesmerized by her bizarre dance and her clothes and body became dirtier and dirtier. His fingers itched to clean her. Then, almost as suddenly as the time when she had seen him, she bolted, grabbing her cloak along the way.

By the time they had returned to the castle, dinner was nearly over. He quickly took a shower and changed into fresh robes, refusing to think on why he was spying on the Weasley girl. By the time Pansy had sought him out in what he thought was the refuge of his dormitory, he had tucked this fresh memory of Weasley into a sealed envelope, stamped it, and mailed it to the place where he kept all forbidden things. 

"Why didn't you come to dinner, Draco?"

"I wasn't hungry."

"I bet you are now. Here, I saved you something." Pansy took a napkin out of her pocket and opened it to reveal two greasy chicken wings.

"That's…nice," he struggled, "but I think I'll just go down to the kitchens." And he did, leaving Pansy trembling in his wake.

Once in the kitchen, the smell of cooked food filled him; it was almost like being in the kitchens at home. The house elves treated him the same way too; they brought his dinner that was slightly cold and ushered him to a table to eat. He liked to watch the elves as they stirred the soup in the pot for their own meal.

"Don't fret miss, everything will be alright," the high-pitched voice of a female house elf was easy to hear, but he kept on eating. "I remember when Mrs. Crouch was just married and she didn't know Mr. Crouch very well and she liked him a lot but she didn't know if he liked her. He did, Miss, he did very much but Mr. Crouch was always shy about his feelings. So I tells Mrs. Crouch 'don't worry, just wait a little and maybe he'll show you how he feels' and he did! So maybe he'll show you how he feels before you change your mind about how you feel."

"I just…I wish someone would care about me like I care about him. All the boys seem to be afraid of me and with my brothers the way they are I think I'll be an old maid." The voice he heard now was lower, softer, quieter and quavering.

"Don't you worry, Miss, someone will love you. I don't see why humans are always thinking about love and waiting for it. It will come to them when it's their time. But whenever you have troubles, please come and see Winky, Miss. Winky very much likes talking to Miss."

"Of course I will, Winky. Thank you for listening."

"Now you go and wash your face. Winky will clean up your drink."

"Miss" did go and wash her face, bending low over the sink made for the house elves. She made a sort of sniffling noise as she did, before drying her face. She didn't notice him sitting there, and he was glad she didn't because of her unmistakable head of Weasley hair.


End file.
